


The Only Bee in My Bonnet

by PotentialChairs (Adorabloodthirsty)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Rating subject to change, derek hale is an actor slash douche, generous references to Greek mythology, lydia is beautiful and terrifying, restaurant AU, stiles is a waiter at a fancy restaurant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adorabloodthirsty/pseuds/PotentialChairs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Lydia eyed him darkly, then released him, “He may never come back here. And if he doesn't, I'll get your ass on a platter and stick it in my office. Capiche?” Stiles gulped and nodded. “Now, you're going to go out there, you're going to smile, and you're going to be so damn pleasant he'll get cavities. Got it?” Stiles, not trusting his mouth, nodded again. Lydia smiled sweetly, but her eyes held fire, “Brilliant.”</em><br/> </p><p>Or the one in which Stiles is a waiter at an uptown New York Restaurant who can't keep his mouth shut to save his life. Derek Hale is the actor that just stole a seat in Stiles' section and Stiles isn't about to take his bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled 'Greek Gods and Hot Bods'

  
  
If Greek mythology turned out to be true, then Stiles was pissed with Apollo. That asshole needed to move his damn chariot of light or whatever across the sky, like, yesterday. Stiles could've sworn that it was 12:04 two _hours_ ago, but when he checked the clock, it stated 12:06. It mocked him with its glowing numbers. He vowed to get his revenge. And a tylenol. But mostly revenge. Though a tylenol did sound wonderful right about now.

 

Stiles had decided that if he ever needed to change his job, he would _never_ work in a popular (like, super popular, no lie) restaurant again. It was hell. The lowest ring of hell, complete with fire-breathing demons. Do demons breathe fire? No, wait, that's _dragons_ , duh.

 

Anyway.

 

His stupid fancy waiter suit itched. It was a billion and one degrees outside and the line stretched so far down the street that he would've needed binoculars to see the end of it. And, the people don't even _look_ pissed about the heat. New York's highest temperatures all year, and they were smiling like it was Christmas in July. Insane.

 

“Stiles! Focus!” a voice snapped at him. He jumped, his tray wobbling on his palm. He steadied it and looked up with wide eyes. “I need you on five. _Now_.” the voice belonged to Lydia Martin, the manager. Stiles thought she was terrifying.Well, as terrifying as a goddess could be. A deadly beauty. Stiles sighed wistfully.

 

"Are you even listening to me?" Lydia waved an impatient hand in front of his face.

 

"What? No, yes of course I am." Stiles literally shook the thoughts out of his head. This was the lunch rush, he needed to focus.

 

She glared at him, "Five." she said. Then she turned back around to shout orders at their head cook, Boyd. Sties hero-worshiped that man. He could stare down an angry Lydia without so much as flinching.

 

"Dude, _go_." Stiles was pushed out the door by his best friend and co-waiter, Scott. On any other day, Stiles would have hit himself for lagging behind _Scott_ in orders.  But he needed to get his act together.

 

He adjusted the plate of drinks at his shoulder and fixed his posture. He weaved through tables until he got to his section. He gently placed the expensive drinks on the expensive table cloth. He politely asked if there was anything else he could possibly do for them today. With a dismissive wave, not so much as a word from the couple, Stiles bristled internally and walked away.

 

He hated rich people. With a burning passion that raged deep within his heart. Okay, maybe that was a little over-dramatic. But with some of the customers Stiles had to deal with on a daily basis, he had every right. Not all of them were bad. A majority were actually really cool people. But then there were some Stiles didn't want to touch with a five-meter pole.

 

An indignant cry caught his attention as he passed the section nearest to the host's podium. Danny, who was manning the station, smiled tight lipped at the door.

 

The woman, not famous but lucky with her spot, went from being annoyed to flustered in a second. A man in a leather jacket had appeared to cut in front of her, no, _everyone_. She blushed and waved him to go on. He threw her a charming smile that was so clearly fake, and Stiles understood why she was so red. Fucking _actors_ man. Stiles was surprised she didn't throw herself at his feet.

 

"For one." he said to Danny, annoying smile completely gone. Stiles could tell that Danny wanted to deal out a serious can of ass-whoopin'. But this was Danny, and he was physically and mentally incapable of ever doing anything remotely evil. Danny nodded and led him to the only empty table in the restaurant.

 

And Tyche be damned, it would have been in Stiles' section.

 

He sat calmly and browsed the menu. Stiles fumed slightly next to Scott, where they had migrated to. It was where the waiters stood so that they could see their tables when they were waiting for their next order.

 

"I hate actors." Stiles muttered cautiously so that no straining ears could hear. "I mean, did you see how he just cut in front of all those people? If I were that lady, I'd've kicked his ass out on the curb."

 

"I know dude, I know." Scott gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Stiles sighed. The perks of his job were infinite.

 

Two hands waved Stiles down. One belonged to a non-famous couple on an anniversary night and the other belonged to Mr. I-Am-An-Ass Derek Hale. Stiles' eyes flitted between the two for a second and wondered how much trouble he would be in if he ignored the priority customer first.

 

Fuck it. Stiles picked the nice couple. He saw Derek's eye twitch and so help him God, it made his whole day.

 

"What can I get you?" he smiled at the middle-aged man and woman who seemed to be glowing tonight. Ah, love.

 

"Your finest bottle of champagne." the man said professionally, clearly making an effort in front of his wife.

 

"Right away, sir." he nodded at them, straightening his back he made his way back to the kitchens. Stiles knew that was a bad idea. He could have gone to Hale's table and took his order and picked up the bottle of champagne on his way out. It's what he would have done with any other customer. But Stiles was an evil, evil man. It kept him up at night.

 

Taking his time, he asked for them to bring out the champagne. Placing it on his tray, he carried it out to the couple, who thanked him. Bless them, Stiles wasn't thanked half as much as he should be. Then, _finally_ , he reached Derek Hale's table.

 

“What can I get for you, sir?” Stiles asked with forced politeness through a fake smile.

 

“Quicker service maybe?” he mumbled. Stiles' hands tightened on his writing pad.

 

“Well, sir, this _is_ our lunch rush. You came at a bad time.” _Actually, for an ass like you, no time is a good time to come here,_ Stiles thought.

 

“Do you know who I _am_?” Hale demanded. Oh _of course_ he was going to play the I'm-famous-I-get-priority card. Where was the originality?

 

“Yes, I sure do. And just because you're good at pretending to be someone you're not while getting paid does not automatically make you better than anyone else.” Dammit, he was going to get fired for this, but the word-vomit kept going, “Now, if you would just give me you're damn order so I can get you out of my section, that would be _fan_ tastic.” Lydia was going to kill him. He was going to die alone in a hole where no one would ever find him. Sweet Zeus have mercy.

 

Derek Hale looked shocked. His eyebrows did a strange bobbing dance and his eyes widened. Stiles wanted to preen. Oh, how he'd enjoyed saying that.

 

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Hale seemed to have trouble comprehending what had just happened. Stiles' polite smile hadn't wavered the entire time.

 

“Your order sir?” he asked. Stiles decided he was just going to pretend it never happened. That was a good idea for everyone.

 

Hale's eyes tightened and he seemed to be physically restraining himself from doing something horrible to Stiles. It probably involved a lot fists and blood and ugh, no thank you. Or he could just be debating on whether or not to call some bodyguard or other to do it for him. Wouldn't want to soil his expensive leather jacket that made him look like a total tool.

 

He took a deep breath and rattled off a long order, smirking the entire time. Stiles scrambled to get it all written down on his pad, but it was kind of difficult seeing how Hale would order something, then completely change his mind or set a series of customized plates, then decide on something else. Stiles didn't miss a beat.

 

When Hale was done, he said smugly, “Got all that?”

 

Stiles' polite smile had a razor sharp edge to it as he listed the final order, “If that's all then.” And with that Stiles turned on his heel and walked stiffly to the kitchens. He ripped the order out of his pad viciously and pinned it up next to the rest.

 

“Priority.” he called to Boyd, who rolled his eyes and ordered the Sous-Chef, a fiery young thing named Erica, to get it started. 

 

“Who is it this time?” she asked.

 

“Derek Asshole Hale.” Stiles grumbled.

 

Erica leered, “I hear he's one hell of a diva. But I wouldn't blame him. I mean have you _seen_ those abs? What I wouldn't give to be alone in a dark room with _him._ ”

 

Stiles had in fact seen the spread in GQ that featured one very shirtless Derek Hale, but there was no way he was going to let Erica know that. “Well, if you want him so bad, you should deliver the food to him. If I do, I might kill him or say something else about his douchey attitude.” Stiles bit his lip, that last part slipped out. Shit.

 

And Holy Hades, Lydia _would __have heard him._

 

“You. Did. _What?_ ” she hissed, grabbing him by his tie. Erica smartly backed away. Stiles would have glared at her, but he was too busy being terrified. He thought maybe, if he kept his mouth shut then... Oh, who was he kidding?

 

“I might have kind of accidentally insulted Derek Hale? By a totally on purpose accident? But, to be fair, he cut the _whole line_ and everyone just _let him_. All I wanted to do was serve the nice couple on their anniversary. Is that so wrong? I _may_ have ignored the priority customer, but he was a total asshole anyway. So it's no one's loss or anything like that.”

 

Stiles could read the expression on Lydia's face as one that meant she was trying not to shove his face into the industrial blender they had in the back room. He was pretty sure the vein on her forehead was going to pop and there was no way that could be healthy.

 

“You should just calm down, nothing bad happe-” Stiles began, making calming gestures with his hands.

 

“I. Am. Going. To. _Eviscerate you._ ” she seethed, pulling him forward menacingly. On any other day, Stiles would have no problem being this close to Lydia, but now all he wanted was to run away and never look back.

 

“It's fine, I'm pretty sure he's over it.” Stiles insisted. “And, anyway, how am I supposed to serve him on time if you're keeping me hostage in here?”

 

Lydia eyed him darkly, then released him, “He may never come back here. And if he doesn't, I'll get your ass on a platter and stick it in my office. Capiche?” Stiles gulped and nodded. “Now, you're going to go out there, you're going to smile, and you're going to be _so damn pleasant_ he'll get cavities. Got it?” Stiles, not trusting his mouth, nodded again. Lydia smiled sweetly, but her eyes held fire, “Brilliant.”

 

Stiles turned, slightly dazed, and placed Hale's order on his platter next to the pitcher he held for refills. Boyd looked at him in what Stiles thought might have been sympathy. Erica just winked. Damn her.

 

At the door, Stiles took a long breath and plastered a grin on his face so large his cheeks ached. Scott, who had just pushed through the door to get into the kitchen, gave him a wide berth and a scared look. Stiles maneuvered his way around the actress, the comedian, and the athlete, to the douche.

 

Hale, the ass, smirked at him. Stiles smiled even harder, if that was possible, neatly placing the entr _é_ e dish, immaculate, in front of him along with his drink. “Anything else I can get for you?” Stiles channeled his inner southern belle without the accent, though it was tempting. Hale teeth flashed, sharp and pearly white, before waving Stiles off, without a single word. Stiles smiled again and turned on his heel.

 

If he were to be honest with himself, Stiles was hoping Hale would have said something, anything. It was sort of anticlimactic, even considering the buzz in the air between them. If Stiles' life were an anime, as he was sometimes wont to believe, there would have been a line of electricity connecting them.

 

Stiles was going to count this as a victory on his side, no matter what Hale thought. Anyway, there was only the main course and then desert to give and Hale would be out of his territory.

 

The main course and desert passed in the same fashion of the entr _é_ e. Hale hadn't spoken a word to him since he was sat at the table. Sweet Eleos have mercy, Stiles was at the end of his rope. He had expected a canon and gotten a firecracker. Hale was obliviously stringing him along. No A-level elite celebrity could take a lashing like that from someone like _Stiles_ of all people. He wasn’t worth the dirt on their shoes in their eyes.

 

“Uhm, would you like your check?” Stiles asked, keeping his voice level, who was nervous not him nope, after he had lifted the empty desert plate (who know Hale ate _carbs_ ) from the table. Hale nodded and Stiles most certainly did not skitter off back to the kitchens to grab the check then back to the table. Hale handed him his credit card and Stiles was off again to get the payment cleared.

Stiles handed him his card and Hale smirked at him again, their fingers brushing as Hale slowly slipped the card from his fingers. Aphrodite must have sculpted this man out of goddamn marble, what with the ridiculous frame and dark eyelashes. Not fair.

It took Stiles a couple of seconds to realize that he'd been standing there, on the other side of the card for God knows how long, staring like a damn idiot. He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned away, wiping his sweaty palms down on his apron so that it looked like he was clearing out an invisible wrinkle.

When Stiles looked back up from his shoes, Hale was gone. He was caught between anger and embarrassment. What Hale must think of him now. Stiles was quite sure he had looked like a star-struck teenage girl for a second.

Wait.

No.

Stiles didn't care what Hale thought of him, because it didn't matter. Hale could think he was the biggest girly girl and it wouldn't make Stiles bat an eyelash. Hale's opinion had absolutely no effect on Stiles. At all.

Fuming slightly, Stiles gathered the remnants of the meal from the table that he had not taken previously and a piece of paper caught his eye.  He picked it up and almost dropped everything he was holding.

It said _You can make it up to me_ and underneath it was a phone number.

_Derek Hale’s fucking phone number._

Shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned to make this hellishly long this so I'm going to keep it open in case I do decide to expand it a bit. Thoughts? Opinions? Should I keep going?
> 
> Apollo-god of sun, light, knowledge, music, healing, and the arts  
> Tyche-goddess of luck and some other stuff   
> Zeus-the macho man of Olympus. probably refers to himself in third person.   
> Hades-underworld macho man. deserves more credit than he gets. why is he always the bad guy like chill  
> Aphrodite-goddess of love and beauty and basically the baddest bitch in town
> 
> hit me up on tumblr we can chat: http://potentialchairs.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

“I can make it up to _him? I_ can _make it up_ to _him_?” No matter how many different combinations of emphasis Stiles used, the anger inside him would not abate. He paced aggressively in front of Scott, who was looking at him upside-down from the couch of Scott’s apartment. They were supposed to be playing video games but Stiles was just _so angry._ “What a pervert! Does he think I’m some sort of… _booty call_? What a self-entitled piece of-,” 

“Yeah dude, he’s a real asshole.” Scott said absently for maybe the hundredth time in the past hour. It succeeded in making Stiles feel a little bit guilty for ruining their weekly bro-date but Derek fucking Hale just _gave Stiles his number what the actual fuck was he supposed to-_

“Why don’t you just text him or something?” Scott suggested and oh poor innocent Scott with his bunny rabbit eyes and his fluffy hair. 

“Oh, Scott.” Stiles said, pityingly. “He’s obviously trying to make fun of me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.” 

“But he gave you his number, wouldn’t he want you to text him?” Scott asked, picking up his phone and texting someone, which was strange because Stiles was right next to him, literally who could he be talking to? 

Stiles frowned down at his own phone which was growing warmer in his palm the longer he held on to it, which had been for the past few hours. People like Derek don’t give their numbers to people like Stiles. It was probably some sort of cruel joke and the idea curdled his stomach and brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Derek would laugh at him if he called and ask him if he truly thought he was serious, that Derek could possibly want Stiles. Revenge was all it was and Stiles would not be ridiculed by Derek Hale. 

“You know what? Forget it. This is dumb; I’m dumb for even thinking about this.” Stiles shook his head and slid his phone into his pocket, wiping his hands off on his pants. “Let’s go kick some zombie ass.” He grinned and Scott grinned back. 

\--

Alas, there were only so many zombies that could be killed on a Friday night before Stiles started getting restless. Usually video games were a good outlet for all the pent up energy that surged through him without end. But this was a special case and Stiles gripped the controller tightly as he smashed a zombie with a baseball bat, wishing he had the motivation to go outside and hit real things with real baseball bats. 

“Scoooott,” he whined, “I’m _bored_.” he tossed the controller onto the couch next to him and stretched out over Scott’s lap, demanding all his attention. 

“But zombies.” Scott gestured with both his hands and the controller to the screen where Stiles had died and Scott was battling a hoard all on his own. 

“I’m bored and I’m 21 years old. Do you see where I’m going with this?” Stiles raised his arms and rubbed his hands on Scott’s face, causing the hoard to take over and for them to lose the level. Scott stuck out his tongue and licked Stiles’s palm as it crossed his mouth. Stiles squirmed out of his lap and rubbed his hand on Scott’s shirt. 

“You’re gross and I hate you.”

“Get your jacket, let’s go.” 

“You’re beautiful and I love you.”

Scott rolled his eyes. 

\--

Stiles, unsurprisingly, can’t hold his liquor to save his life and is beyond hammered two hours after he left Scott’s place. Scott, on the other hand, is like some sort of super human when it comes to alcohol and is a few more drinks in than Stiles and not even half as drunk. 

Stiles waves his empty shot glass at the bartender, a tall brunette woman with more tattoo than skin. She looks to Scott for approval, who subtly shakes his head at her. She walked past like she didn’t even notice them. 

“Rude,” Stiles pouted, setting his glass down with more force than necessary, staring at it. Maybe if he looked hard enough, it'll refill itself. 

“Come on Stiles, we came here to have a good time.” Scott said, trying and failing to catch Stiles’ eyes. “I though you wanted to get your mind off the Hale thing.” 

Immediately Scott realized that was the wrong thing to say as Stiles shot up and his eyes blazed with the fires of Prometheus.

“What a _dick_!” Stiles enthused, leaning a bit too close to Scott’s face, gripping it between his palms, shaking it as he spoke, “I _hate_ him.” 

“I know, dude,” Scott said calmly, extracting the hands from his face, “I really, really know. I promise that I absolutely get it.” Ok so maybe they had had this conversation too many times, but hey he was drunk, who can blame him? 

“I should do something about this.” Stiles said gravely, mostly to himself. He nodded decisively and pulled out his phone. 

“Man, are you sure you should-,” 

“Aren’t you the one that told me I should just text him?” Stiles looked at Scott with wide eyes, “Well I’ll do you one better and call the bastard.” He pulled up his contact list to where he stored Hale’s number lovingly under “Dick Face”. 

“Stiles, you’re hammered, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Scott tried to grab the phone but Stiles jerked away, holding the phone to his ear and putting his finger to his lips. 

“It’s ringing,” he stage whispered. 

“Hello?” a disgruntled voice answered, thick with sleep. 

“Hello Dick Face.” Stiles said, with all the alcohol fueled anger he could muster. 

“Who is this?” Derek Hale demanded, “How did you get my personal number?” 

“Uh, you _gave_ it to me? Or are you actually as dumb as I think you are. I mean, what kind of person goes around and gives their personal phone number to a stranger? An idiot, that’s who.” Stiles said pointedly. Scott looked worried next to him, glancing between Stiles and the phone in his hand.

“Is this that waiter? From the restaurant?” Maybe it was the drinks but it sounded a bit like Hale perked up at that. But Stiles knew better, and Hale was a cruel, cruel, attractive, cruel man. 

“Maybe, who wants to know?”

“ _You_ called _me_.” Hale said slowly. 

“Oh. Right. Shut up.” Stiles was getting off track here, “I’m getting off track.” 

“What track? Wait, are you drunk?”

“The track of… of… of you suck and your pretty face sucks and your amazing abs suck.” 

“Did you just say I have a pretty face?” Hale sounds amused and that meant he was probably smiling and no one signed off on that. 

“That’s not the point,” Stiles said, dismayed. 

“Is the point that I suck?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Stiles breathed out in relief, “Thank you for understanding.” And with that, Stiles hung up, smiling slightly. 

“Stiles?” Scott asked tentatively. 

“Yeah?” Stiles said absently, smiling at his still empty shot glass, turning it in his hand. 

“You good?” 

“Totally, I think I put him in his place.”

“If you say so.” Scott gestured to the bartender with his own glass for a refill. 

\--

Stiles was awakened by the sunlight streaming through the window blinds. He groaned, pulling the sheets over his head trying to go back to sleep. But he yawned and the smell of his own breath made his grimace so he peeled himself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. 

Stiles thanked whatever deity was listening that it was Sunday, his day off. As he brushed his teeth, waiting for the shower water to heat up, he felt excited about the idea of sitting around and doing basically nothing all day long. 

Yet, for some reason, Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something from last night. He only remembers getting out of a cab with Scott, who, Stiles thinks, tucked him in. 

He shrugged, whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad. 

\--

Monday saw him back at work first thing in the morning. Thankfully, the first day of the week is never that busy. 

The pre-shift meeting was nice and short and Stiles made for the door, the day’s specials swimming around in his head, when Lydia stopped him with a hand on the shoulder, “Oh, Stiles, one more thing. You have a reservation in your section later today.”

“So?” It was pretty typical for most of the tables to be reservations. 

“This one’s priority. And they specifically requested _you_.” Her grin was sharp and sometimes Stiles swears that her teeth are filed to a point. 

“Do you know who it is?” Stiles has a sinking feeling he’s not going to enjoy this. 

“I don’t know how you did it, but Derek damn Hale requested you. Don’t wreck it.” Her smile fell from her face so fast Stiles didn’t even see it. 

“Yes ma’am,” Stiles said, mostly out of fear with a dash of bewilderment, as he left the meeting room. 

What could possibly make Derek Hale come back here after the way Stiles treated him? Not that Stiles thought he was in the wrong because sometimes people need to be put into their place. 

As Hale’s reservation time neared, Stiles found himself constantly checking the clock and then hating himself for caring. Chronos was really pulling his leg here. He also noticed that he would constantly smooth down his shirt and really, who was approving these in his brain? 

Instead, Stiles threw himself into being the best damn waiter New York has ever seen. Before he knew it, Derek Hale was sat down at the same table from before, looking bored as ever until Stiles stopped dead and Hale caught his eye. Stiles sighed and checked his apron subtlety and made his way over, pulling out his scratchpad.

“Mr. Hale,” Stiles said politely, “Do you need another minute to look over the menu?”

“Call me Derek.” Hale grinned at him, but it was the same sickly sweet smile he gave Danny before, and it immediately made Stiles fume. 

“I’d really rather not, thanks.” Stiles snapped. 

“What’s your name?” Hale asked. The waiters at The Beacon didn’t wear nametags because, to be frank, the customers don’t really care about the names of their wait staff. 

“My name is I’m trying to do my job and I have other customers to tend to, believe it or not.” Stiles said through gritted teeth. 

Hale sighed, as if he was put off, “That’s not really grade-A customer service, in my opinion.” 

Stiles wanted to groan and stamp his feet, but he was an adult damn it and he would not give in. So he exhaled sharply, “Derek Hale, oh so talented actor extraordinaire, would you like to order some food?” 

“And here I’d thought you’d include something about my, what was it, pretty face and amazing abs?” Hale was clearly close to laughing, but Stiles was up a creek. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Oh? You don’t remember do you?” Hale said with false pity that made Stiles’ blood run cold and hot at the same time. 

Stiles thought back to the time between him meeting Hale for the first time and now. The only thing that he can’t account for was that night at the bar…

Oh fuck. 

His shock must have shown on his face, because Hale finally did laugh quietly to himself, “You really forgot.”

Stiles was flustered and pretty sure his face was ten different shades of red. 

“And it was really cute too, did you know you have a little lisp when you’re drunk?” Derek’s smile seemed genuine now. 

Stiles was right, Derek just wanted to make fun of him, humiliate him. His face was red, but now it was with shame and anger. Why did he think Hale had a drop of humanity in him? He wanted to run and hide his face but the anger overcame the embarrassment. But he was in work there was nothing he could do without fear of getting fired and he really needed this job. Spring break was only so long and when school started back up he would go back to working part time. College dues can’t pay themselves. 

He was the kind of person to go silent with anger, and his face grew stony, “Order or leave. I didn’t come in to work today for you to humiliate me just because you think you’re better than me,” he said, deadly calm. 

Hale’s brows furrowed, “You’re wrong-,”

“Order or leave.” 

“ _You_ called _me._ ”and wasn’t that familiar? Stiles couldn’t believe he forgot drunk-dialing Derek Hale at… God, two in the morning? 

Stiles leaned in and whispered harshly, “So you come to my place of work to what? Embarrass me?” 

“No!” Derek put his hands up defensively, palms out. 

“I’m not having this argument with you right now. I have other people to serve so I’m going to ask you to order one last time.” 

Derek looked like he absolutely wanted to continue talking about it, but Stiles’ glare made him sigh and finally order something. Without another word Stiles took his order to the kitchen and stuck it up, “It’s a fucking priority.” he seethed. 

Erica looked troubled, but took the slip of paper without saying anything and Stiles was grateful. Erica might be a bit much at times but she was insanely perceptive. 

He served Hale, served other customers, got Hale his check, got other customers their check, boiling inwardly with all the power of Ares. 

He paused as he was handing Hale his credit card back, mostly because Hale held onto the card and Stiles’ hand in almost a mirror image of the first day they met. 

“Listen, when I mentioned the call, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.” Hale started. 

“Okay, cool, can you please let me go now.” Stiles said, indifferent.

“Can I at least know your name?” 

“If I tell you my name, will you let me go?” 

“Yes.” 

Stiles didn’t want to do it. Hale shouldn’t get everything he wanted just because he asked for it. But he was at work, people were starting to stare. 

“Stiles, okay? Will you leave now?” he said, voice going a little desperate, almost whispering but not quite. 

“Stiles,” Hale repeated, testing the name on his tongue, “I’ve never heard it before, does it have a meaning?” 

“This isn’t twenty questions, you get the one and then you get to go.” Stiles tilted his head toward the doors. 

Nodding, Hale slowly slid his hand of Stiles’, taking the card as he went. He stood up smoothly and brushed past Stiles on his way out the door to the waiting limo. 

Stiles made a beeline to the back and smacked himself on the cheek a couple times to wash Derek Hale out of his head and get back to his work mind set. 

His phone vibrated and he sneaked a peak at it after making sure Lydia wasn’t around. 

_Dick Face [9:36am]:_ Good to meet you again, Stiles. I hope we’ll see each other again very soon. 

He didn’t know why, but that seemed like a promise rather than a pleasantry. He also wasn’t sure why his body thrummed with electricity and he couldn't tell if it was because he wanted to see Hale again but he sure as hell liked the thrill of hating him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are too kind so here's another chapter. Also yes, the title is a They Might be Giants reference. And hey maybe the next time Derek and Stiles meet isn't in the restaurant, who knows? oh wait I do 
> 
> Prometheus-titan, gave man fire and then got his liver pecked out by an eagle everyday or something. sounds fun.  
> Chronos-god of time, dont confuse him with Cronos because that guys a huge dick  
> Ares-god of war, also a huge dick
> 
> I edit it myself so let me know if i made some kind of terrible life altering mistake in grammar or something
> 
> Let me know what you think, if I should still keep going or not 
> 
> hmu on tumblr: http://potentialchairs.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles went home that evening after his shift and spent the better half of two hours debating on texting Hale back or not. On one hand that guy _sucks_ but on the other hand Stiles can’t stop reaching for his phone and re-reading that message over and over. At least, if Stiles does decide to text him then he’ll have time to think through what he wants to say instead of just throwing words in his general direction haphazardly. _Fuck it,_ Stiles thought and typed out the first thing he could think of which, in retrospect, kind of went against the whole “think it through” thing. 

_Stiles [8:21pm]:_ dude that’s so fucking creepy are you serious

Good job, Stiles, is this how you start a conversation with someone? Insult them?

 _Dick Face [8:23pm]:_ What?

 _Stiles [8:23pm]:_ you sound like a serial killer tbh 

_Dick Face [8:23pm]:_ …. 

_Stiles[8:24pm]_ :ur not gonna like show up at my house in the middle of night with a gun right?

 _Dick Face [8:24pm]:_ No, Stiles, I don’t want to kill you. I was being sincere. 

_Stiles [8:25pm]:_ wow could’ve fooled me 

\--

The next week passed in pretty much the same way. The only interaction Stiles had with Hale was through text and he, thankfully, didn’t show up at The Beacon again. As much as he would never ever admit it, even to Scott’s knowing looks, he was kind of enjoying it. 

For instance, he was in class, _Art, Myth, and Society in the Ancient Aegean,_ when the professor displayed an image of a gold funerary face and Stiles snuck out his phone and snapped a picture of it. He sent it to Hale with the caption “reminds me of you”, but pouted and tucked the phone away when Hale turned it around and responded with “I’m glad that you’re thinking about me.”

He’s having bro night with Scott when Hale texts him a photo of probably the ugliest dog Stiles has ever seen in his whole life with the caption “Reminded me of you ;)”. Stiles barked out a surprised laugh and stared at his phone incredulously. He wasn’t sure what to think about, the fact that Hale has a sense of humor or that he followed the text with a winky face. 

“What? What is it?” Scott asked, scooting up next to Stiles to look at his screen. Stiles tried to hide it but he was too late and Scott pulled it out of his hands and read the text. 

“Dude.” 

“Don’t think too far into it, man.” 

“You’re casually texting an A-list celebrity and you don’t want me to think too far into it?” Scott raised an eyebrow and Stiles couldn’t help but think he had a point. 

“It’s not a big deal, I swear, sometimes he texts me and I don’t want to be rude or anything so I reply.” Stiles said, stumbling over his words a little bit in his haste to defend himself. 

Scott gave him a blank stare and looked back to Stiles’ phone, scrolling up to earlier texts, “Three days ago, 2:12am, ‘are you the kind of person to flex in the mirror because u look like that kind of person’.”

“Ok, I was writing a paper, it was really late. I don’t even remember typing that-”

“Two days ago, 12:38pm, ‘saw a documentary and this guy has a boat that he can park his yacht in, is that u?” Scott gave him a pointed look, locking the phone and tossing it back to Stiles. 

“It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything, he started it.” Stiles shrugged, trying to play it cool. 

“Are you guys like, hooking up or something?” 

“Uh, _no_ , thanks” Stiles mimed vomiting, “I told you, I still hate him, but I’m currently hating him through text.” 

Scott made a frowny face that made Stiles feel momentarily guilty about the whole situation even though he probably had nothing to feel bad about. “You don’t know anything about him, man.”

“I know that… that he likes ugly dogs! And that he probably gets his chest waxed because seriously no one is that hairless is unnatural-“ Stiles was starting a tangent and Scott placed a sad, sad hand on his shoulder to catch his attention to give him a sad, sad look. 

“I don’t want you getting into something that’s probably not going to turn out the way you want it to.” Scott said and Stiles hated that he was right. 

“Don’t worry about me, Scotty boy. I’m the king of not getting attached. The duke of platonic relationships and practically the patron saint of one sided friendships.” 

“When we first started working at the restaurant, you were almost fired because you were too intimidated and in love with Lydia to properly do your job.” Scott said.

“Ok, well we all make mistakes sometimes and-“

“In high school, you asked the head of the girls MMA team out like ten times.” 

“I’m pretty sure she had the hots for me.” Stiles said meekly, “Maybe just a little bit?” 

Scott sighed, “Alright dude, I trust you to make the best decision for yourself. Just make sure that whatever you’re doing you’re happy with.” 

To cover up the gushy feeling this conversation was creating within Stiles he tackled Scott into the other side of the couch using one arm to grab him around his neck and the other to mercilessly rub his knuckles into Scott’s hair. 

“Dude! No, mercy, you’re the worst!”

\--

Stiles thought long and hard about what Scott told him that night, he really didn’t know anything about Hale. Not even as much as the average middle aged soccer mom because unlike them Stiles didn’t read the gossip magazines or keep track of his personal life on celebrity news. Now that he’s thinking about it, it is kind of weird to be texting some random dude he met like twice (where both times sucked) and know literally nothing about them. 

He didn’t want to start with the news about him because Stiles didn’t really know how trustworthy those sites were and to be honest, Hale didn’t need anything else tainting the already shoddy mental image Stiles had of him. 

So with no other ideas or obvious options Stiles drove down to the closest movie rental kiosk and picked up Derek Hale’s entire filmography. 

What followed was Stiles spending his entire day off curled up on the couch in his tiny apartment marathoning, in order, Hale’s career from the bad rom-coms to the high-budget block busters. Occasionally he would reach for his phone with the intent to text Hale a picture of himself on screen but put it back because on second thought maybe he shouldn’t be letting him know what he’s doing. He did, however text Scott a picture of the current movie he was watching with the caption“see I’m learning a lot about hale this some quality education”and Scott sent back an emoji that side-eyed his effort. 

Sties threw his phone off to the side with a pout and turned back to the screen where a slightly younger Hale was about to make out with his female costar in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Stiles felt a gnawing sensation in his stomach and attributed it to how unrealistic it was for that to happen because they would be really dirty and gross and who know when the last time they brushed their teeth was. Hale did look really good though, if Stiles was honest with himself. His stubble was replaced with something that was almost a legitimate beard which wasn’t a bad look for him. And if Stiles was really, really honest then he would admit that Hale looked especially good holding a machine gun. 

What Stiles wouldn’t admit, though, was this gave him the opportunity to watch Hale, catalog his features and voice without worrying about dealing with Hale in person and what that might mean. He traced the lines of his jaw with his eyes, the curve of his lips and the rise and fall of his cheekbones. He found himself stuck on the surprisingly cute bunny teeth he had and how it softened his whole look even when he fires a shotgun into the head of a zombie. 

He caught himself spending too much time regarding the various states of Hale’s hair when he snapped out of it and reminded himself that Derek Hales was a grade-A entitled son of a bitch. He snatched his phone up. 

_Stiles [4:30pm]:_ just checking in to make sure you’ve reached ur daily being an asshole quota 

_Dick Face [4:32pm]:_ Stiles, I’m not always an asshole I promise. You caught me on a bad day. 

_Stiles [4:32pm]:_ wow that awesome how youre not taking responsibility for your actions 

_Stiles [4:32pm]:_ rly cool

 _Dick Face [4:33pm]:_ Look, I’m really sorry. You’re right, I was an asshole and I really regret it. 

_Stiles [4:33pm]:_ im not convinced but it’s a start 

_Dick Face [4:33pm]:_ Please, just let me make it up to you.

Stiles was conflicted. On one hand Hale was really rich and could probably be talked into buying Stiles an expensive dinner as an apology. On the other hand Derek Hale still left a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought back to meeting Hale at the restaurant. And yet, overall, the most perplexing thing about this entire situation was why Hale cared. Why Stiles? Hale has to meet hundreds of people every single day each and every one endearing in their own way but he stops to purposefully antagonize Stiles then give him his number? It doesn’t make any feasible sense. It was frustrating and inexplicably made Stiles angry. 

_Stiles [4:41pm]:_ why?

 _Dick Face [4:42pm]:_ Why do I want to make it up to you? Is this, like, some kind of test?

 _Stiles [4:43pm]:_ no like why do you care so much why does any of this matter to you? 

_Dick Face [4:43pm]:_ I don’t understand 

_Stiles [4:44pm]:_ dude im literally no one why are you wasting your time texting wait staff who you know nothing about?? 

_Dick Face [4:44pm]:_ Stiles I don’t have an ulterior motive if that’s what you’re getting at

 _Stiles [4:44pm]:_ then why?? I don’t get it!

 _Dick Face [4:44pm]:_ I don’t know!

 _Dick Face [4:51pm]:_ I don’t know Stiles. I really don’t. I know that I like you and I genuinely think you’re interesting even though I know nothing about you. 

Stiles’ didn’t know how to respond to that. What even are you supposed to say to something like that? Stiles is used to a lot of things: dismissal, rejection, the occasional one night stand. He isn’t used to people outright complimenting him like this. Stiles may think he’s the shit and a half but that’s all the time he spent telling that to himself. A compliment coming from someone else only ever results in Stiles feeling more self-conscious and awkward. He had to diffuse this situation because this type of conversation was too much to deal with and a bit too heavy for Stiles at the moment. 

_Stiles [4:57pm]:_ didn’t ur parents ever teach you about stranger danger man I mean come on

 _Dick Face [5:01pm]:_ I guess the lesson just didn’t stick 

_Stiles [5:01pm]:_ you don’t say 

_Dick Face [5:01pm]:_ Shut up, Stiles. 

Stiles actually smiled at that, laying his phone as he tried to pay attention to the end of the film. After the end credits rolled, Stiles flipped back to the menu to turn on the special features playlist because damn it did those zombies look really well done and he wanted to see if they showed the process of making them. 

What he wasn’t expecting was the blooper reel to play first. Stiles watched in captivation as a smiling, laughing Derek Hale flubbed his lines and made goofy faces at the camera before the scene started. Was this the real Derek Hale? There were so many juxtaposed images of Hale in Stiles’ mind and he wasn’t sure which one was genuine. Was it the uppity film star, the silly man in the bloopers, the nervous and kind of sweet guy texting Stiles pictures of dogs? 

Frankly, all of this was giving Stiles a headache. He was spending way too much time trying to dissect Hale and his intentions that he was getting too caught up in it all. He couldn’t remember a single moment in the past week where he didn’t think about Hale even just a little bit. That probably wasn’t healthy, right? 

Even so, if he wanted to stop stressing out about this, he would need some answers. What better way to figure out how genuine Hale is than to do it in person where Stiles can gauge his responses and mannerisms. It just makes the most sense, Stiles assured himself. That way he can go back to the only semi-stressed out state he was in before. 

But how to do that without making it seem like Stiles was giving into Hale’s constant flirtation and offers of dinner under the guise of an apology. This was a decision completely on Stiles’ part and he didn’t want to give off the wrong idea. 

He picked up his phone to text Scott because Scott would know what to do, he always does. 

_Stiles [6:12pm]:_ I think I should meet Hale in person right? that makes sense yeah?

 _Scott [6:12pm]:_ no that doesn’t make sense that sounds like a totally bad idea dude

 _Stiles [6:12pm]:_ but like?? I want to know his intentions and stuff

 _Stiles [6:13pm]:_ no wait wait that makes it sound like were dating but were not I swear I just want to know if hes really a huge dick like I think he is or not

 _Scott [6:13pm]:_ I don’t know dude…

 _Scott [6:13pm]:_ maybe wait it out a little bit? think it through a little bit more just to like be sure that’s what you want to do and figure out what you want to say to him and stuff

 _Stiles [6:14pm]:_ see man what would I do w/o you? 

_Scott [6:14pm]:_ youd probably be dead by now tbh 

_Stiles [6:14pm]:_ too true brother 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i finally updated isnt that amazing? hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one was
> 
> theres a sad lack of greek gods in this chapter i dont know what got into me today! let me know if there are any gross grammar errors!
> 
> anyway, as always hmu on tumblr http://potentialchairs.tumblr.com/


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